Another Level
by Feigned Decency
Summary: She looked over to Mac, a pair of black and silver fluffy handcuffs hanging from his finger. "I don't think these would be as effective as our own..." he announced, a smirk in his voice.
1. Chapter 1

Chp2 is M. And I mean _M._ Enjoy.

* * *

She was loving this. Absolutely loving it. She suddenly realised she had harboured some pretty deep desires of seeing just how he would react to a place like this. On one level, so very far from his comfort zone, but... something told her, on another level, maybe right up his street? Maybe? To a degree at least. Not the heavier stuff; not the stuff they generally came into contact with during working hours.

She looked up at the name above the door; both of them just stood on the not-quite-back-street-not-exactly-Fifth-Avenue sidewalk. She followed the length of the sign with her eyes, before bringing them to connect with Mac's, an irrepressible smirk tilting her lips.

He was amused at her enjoyment of this little venture they were on, but more than a little apprehensive about it going to this next level. But heaven forbid she saw that apprehension, he'd never hear the last of it.

"Ready?" She asked, barely keeping hold of the smirk; a full out grin threatening to explode across her features.

"Ladies first."

She licked her lips, a shake of her head hiding the bubble of laughter that escaped as she took hold of the door handle.

Cinnamon. Gentle tones of the spice filtered through the shop courtesy of incense sticks that they spotted smoking on shelves. Swathes of red and black fabric draped over the walls and blocked off a far section of the store. It was intimate, lush, sexy... everything a sex shop needed to be.

The products seemed to be arranged by experience. At the front of the shop - on the table directly in front of them - was a half-off sale on the beginner's kink: recognisable necessities and objects in various colours, flavours and speeds.

Then, a few steps further into the low-lit abyss, the 'Tried it before, liked the result, what else you got' section: items of curious shapes and more curious uses.

The lighting meant you couldn't necessarily see further in unless you dared to step, dared to experience. Lord knew what was behind the curtain.

They split up as they circled the table, looking for anything that may match the injuries on their vic.

Stella swiped a finger across the dark varnished wood of a shelf baring masquerade masks to blindfolds, costumes from Amazonian to Catholic Schoolgirl to Playboy Bunny to Wonder Woman. She couldn't deny the envy at some of the shoes on display; definitely not good for chasing a perp over roofs, but in her younger days, on a night out...

She looked over to Mac, a pair of black and silver fluffy handcuffs hanging from his finger. "I don't think these would be as effective as our own..." he announced, a smirk in his voice.

"Depends on what you had in mind."

"Touché," he laughed.

He took a step further, noting the bookshelves advertising titles from how-to's to who's who. He swirled a hand through a collection of whips stored in an umbrella stand; The handles ranging from the common riding crop to ornate, carved wood to what he thought to be ceramic, maybe marble.

"Welcome to Madame Vastra's Other World," a voice announced.

Mac and Stella looked over to see a woman stood between the threshold to the next level, her hands clasped in front of a protruding - yet contained - ample chest, sheathed into a purple velvet corset that gave her a mesmerising, almost impossible, hourglass figure.

"I'm Sasha. I don't believe we've seen you here before?" The woman asked, a welcoming smile on her face. One would assume an employee of a shop as such to be sullen, domineering, demanding... not this woman. Yes, she had pin-straight black hair with red stripes framing her face, a shining PVC knee-length skirt beneath the corset and the epitome of spiked heels, but she smiled and engaged them like it was Christmas and she was on commission; But with an effortless and natural friendliness.

"We're-" Mac began.

"-Wait! Let me guess. I like this part," she announced, bringing her clasped hands to ruby red pouted lips. She narrowed her eyes in contemplation, staring at Mac and Stella from head to toe. "You've been together a long time - I'm sensing a lot of trust. Which is good both for life and for sex."

Stella was biting her lip to keep control of her smirk, flashing a look over to Mac who was surprisingly letting the woman continue.

"You switch - neither is the identified dominant nor submissive... you both like the thrill, not necessarily just the control. No, it's more about the pleasure for the other."

"You," she gestured to Stella, "...You're adventurous. You're always on the move; you'll try anything for the experience. You like to be surprised..._taken_... but you also know what you like. You like tried and true... _dependable _just as much. It takes a lot to build up enough trust for you to open yourself up with a man, but when you do?" She smiled, knowingly. "You like to see how far you can take someone before they show their true colours."

"You," she turned to Mac, leaving Stella staring in her wake, self-assessing just how accurate she had been. "With you, I'm getting quiet... brooding... but, oh, when you want it, you've got a fire about you! Probably when you don't want it also; _she _knows how to push those buttons, get you all," she gave an exaggerated shudder, "_riled_ up." She smiled, "You're a romantic too. She likes a surprise, so you surprise. You complement each other well. Oh!" she spun on her heel, about to disappear into the store, announcing, "I have the _perfect _thing for you guys!"

"Wait! Miss..." Mac called, his hand outstretched. Stella couldn't deny the disappointment at whatever she may have pulled out from God only knew where. "We're not here to buy," he pulled his badge from his belt and held it out, the gold glistening with a red tint from the coloured spotlights.

"Oh?" Her excited demeanour changed to that of worry and curiosity.

"We're from the crime lab," Stella explained, stepping forward. "Do you know this woman?"

Sasha took the proffered photograph, "That-that's Krista! Is she dead?" Her hand flew to her mouth, then to her stomach.

"How do you know her?"

"She used to work here, 'til a few months ago. The economy hasn't exactly helped a company like this - if people are struggling to buy food, they're not going to bother buying sex toys," she gestured around her with a shaking hand. "She got a job in some office building a few blocks down. What happened to her?"

"She was strangled," Mac said, his voice low and soft. "Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Krista?"

She gave a humourless laugh, handing the photograph back to Stella, "Hundreds. But none with malice in mind. You work in a place like this and people begin to assume things. Krista... she was lovely... good worker, but... there's an element of flirt that comes with the job, and she... she sometimes took things further. She didn't whore herself out or anything, but she may have given her number to some customers who I wouldn't have in a million years, y'know?"

"Do you know who these customers were?"

"Some of the items in here are a bit pricey, I bet I have credit card receipts in the back," she spun on her heel again and disappeared through a door behind the counter before either CSI could ask her to.

"So what, Krista paid a little too much attention to the men who liked behind the curtain?" Stella asked, flicking her head to the lush drapery hiding the highest level of merchandise.

"And it went wrong? Maybe we should bring Adam back a brochure, see what he can match the injuries too."

"I don't think he's ready for that life lesson, is he?"

He laughed, "Hey, you're the one who will 'try anything for the experience'..."

She pursed her lips with a smirk, "Yeah, I'm also the one who can push your buttons and get you all _riled _up. Don't test me, Taylor."

"You-" Mac began, only for Sasha to reappear with a shoe box of receipts. He switched back into professional mode, leaving Stella to swallow down her coquettish smirk.

"This is all of them," she pushed the box into Mac's hands. "I warned her about those men. She was too open, too trusting…"

"Is there anyone in particular you can think of?" Stella asked.

"I… I don't know."

"Sasha," Stella pulled out a small stack of photographs from her pocket. "Krista had some injuries that we believe were inflicted just prior to her death. Do you recognise any of them as something from your store, maybe?"

Stella flicked through the photographs, a variety of purpling bruises and dark blemishes pictured under Sid's UV light.

"Wait, can I see that one?" Sasha asked, her eyes glued to the photo. It showed a dark ligature mark around Krista's wrist. "Did she have the same mark around her ankles and thighs?"

Mac and Stella shot a look to each other, before Stella confirmed to Sasha. "Yes. Do you recognise these markings?"

Sasha stalked to the end of the store, Mac and Stella in tow. Stella marveled at how well Sasha walked in those heels, but she could only imagine Mac's gaze was a few feet higher, whether he wanted it to be or not. The black and red curtain against the wall was pushed aside and they entered a small enclosure. It was just like the rest of the store, but housed one item in particular that drew their attention.

A large reclining chair was in the middle of the floor; it was chrome with dark leather and the shape of a body, with grooves out to the side for arms and spaces for legs that held them open. To Mac and Stella, it looked like a cross between a dentist's chair and torture device.

Sasha stepped forward and pulled on thin, twisted leather ropes where the wrists would be held, with similar cords around the ankles and thighs. "These can be tightened, and because of how thin they are, if you strain against them they can cut into the skin. Some people like that, but it wasn't for me."

Stella held the picture against the ropes. "The twist in these threads could be consistent."

"How many of these have you sold?" Mac asked.

She gave a laugh, gesturing to the price tag. "Just one."

Stella's eyes bulged, calculating how many months' rent was involved for the one item. Sasha snatched the box of receipts from under Stella's arm and rifled through them, pulling out one that bore more digit's than either CSI could believe. "Him."

Mac took the receipt and said his thanks before pulling his cellphone from his belt and dialing for Flack. He walked back out to the street as Stella thanked Sasha again, falling into step with her as they followed Mac's path through the store.

"Please find who did this."

"We will," Stella promised.

Sasha nodded, taking a breath and composing herself to carry on. She smoothed a hand through over her hair, shimmied her body beneath the corset and puckered her lips.

"If you think of anything else," Stella said, passing her a business card. "Please call."

She slipped the card into her bust, "I will. And I meant what I said, you know?" She smiled as Stella stilled at the door, one hand on the handle. "Trust is good for life and _especially_ sex."

Stella followed Sasha eye-line to Mac outside talking animatedly on his phone. She gave a coquettish smirk, "Thank you for your time, Sasha."

.,.,.,.,.,.

She dropped her coat and keys onto the couch and sat opposite him, pulling her tired feet up to rest on his desk. The day was blessedly over and the labs were empty, save – of course – for him. Taking the outstretched tumbler of whisky with a smile, she announced, "Documented, photographed and heading over to Rikers."

"Did he say anything?"

"'The Devil made me do it.'"

"So he's going for an insanity plea then…" Mac shook head, sipping his drink. "It's been a while since we had a nice, clean confession. Everyone wants to shift the blame now."

"Maybe we'll get one tomorrow."

He gave her an incredulous look, not buying her optimism for one second.

They sat in silence for a while; her with both feet propped on the desk and the tumbler on her lap, him with one leg elevated and an eye out to the skyline beyond the window. They mulled over their day; the autopsy results coming in from Sid, the evidence of sex immediately prior to death, finally an identification and then being able to trace her work history back to Madame Vastra's.

Stella couldn't help the smirk that grew across her lips at the thought of the sex shop. The memory of Sasha's face dropping at the knowledge of her friend's death sobered her briefly, but the woman's words about trust and her descriptions of her and Mac… Were they really that in tune? So in tune that they were wasting potentially incredible sex for a good friendship?

She wouldn't lie and say she hadn't thought of him; of it. Of them together, of sweaty moonlit nights writhing in each other's arms, whispering the other's name as they climb higher, their muscles quivering in anticipation for a toe-curling crescendo.

She swallowed down a suddenly dry throat, shaking the images from her mind and bringing the glass to her lips. She looked over to him, sat in still contemplation. He may not have the physique that he once had - the muscle definition immortialised in the photographs on his wall - but it wasn't long forgotten. His neck, his shoulders, his arms, it was still there. On the few occasions when he wore his gym gear, the tighter dark tee shirt and the sweat pants… well, she'd sneaked an appreciative glance once or twice.

That wasn't just why she'd thought of him, however. It was just a small part of it – it was his mind too. His intellect, his compassion, his drive. The loyalty to his city, his department, his friends. His trust in her when her own was lagging.

Trust.

He watched her through the glass, her reflection betraying her stolen glimpses towards him.

He wasn't blind, of course he could see she was beautiful. Beyond compare. He saw the glances and advances of the other men, he saw that flattered smirk spread across her lips, he saw the bounce in her step afterwards.

Sometimes, not often, he'd forget his place and stare too long until he was caught.

Sometimes, not often, she'd ask how she looked before a date and he'd be rendered speechless. His mind spinning for ways to tell her how incredible she looked without sounding like a love-struck teenager. But, in the gaps between speech she'd know and she'd smirk and she'd kick her hip out and drum her fingers across the material of whatever she was wearing and relish in the flush that rose upon his skin.

She saw everything.

God, he wished she didn't see what went on in his mind sometimes. Imagining his hands roaming her body, his mouth following suit, sounds he'd never heard before escaping her lips.

He didn't sleep a lot, so his mind tortured him with images.

_No. Enough. Stop it. _

He forced himself to stop thinking about her in that store; her coquettish smirk as she sassed him about the handcuffs, the way she looked perfectly at home rifling through the costumes, the way Sasha could see straight through him.

_Enough!_

He tore his mind away, bringing the whisky to his mouth and taking a large gulp, punishing himself with the searing burn down his throat.

His computer delivered a tone signalling an email. His eyes shot to the device, thankful for the distraction as he dropped his leg to the floor and sat up straight.

"I don't believe it."

"What?" Stella asked.

"Email from the Chief. They've reneged on the funding for the new Mass Specs," sudden anger flared in his belly, warmed by the alcohol bubbling along with it.

Stella circled the desk and read the message as Mac stood from his chair. His hands fell to his hips as he stared out to the flickering skyline. "Well, no, of course I believe it!"

She turned to him, perching herself on the edge of his desk, "Ours still work, Mac. And it's like he said, training is more important…"

He spun to her, his jaw tight and set before he began, "Adam's machine is literally held together with duct tape and super glue! What good is training going to be if the lab is getting contaminated results? Completely _false _results? It's only time before the lab screws up on a case and it's my head in the ringer! Is that what he's waiting for? He's wanted me out for years…! Why do you find this funny?"

She bit her lip. "This," she gestured to the computer, "is not funny and he's going to be hearing me just as loud as you come tomorrow morning." She watched as his features fell from displaying anger to that of confusion. "I'm _laughing_ because Sasha was right, I really do know which buttons to press to get you all _riled_ up…" she gave an exaggerated shudder like Sasha had done, her smirk growing into a full blown grin. "But seriously, the GCMS in Trace needs rebooting before every test, that-"

Suddenly her pointed finger was digging into Mac's chest as he stepped towards her and she was cut off by Mac's lips attaching to hers.

His hands cupped her face, his lips moving against hers with every ounce of pressure and passion he could muster in that split second decision. She was stunned and still at first, before he felt a tug on his jacket as her hands fisted the material at his sides and her body rose flush against his.

He moved away from her lips, placing a trail of kisses from her jaw to her ear, whispering in a deep husky tone that surprised even him. "You know the buttons, I know when to s_urprise_."


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn't deny the moan that escaped her lips, the sound an involuntary reply to Mac's voice. It had sent a shiver down her spine that Mac had felt and sent his head reeling. Had he done that? Just one word and she had reacted in such a way?

He was shocked, maybe even apprehensive now as he pulled away. He looked at her swollen lips, the glisten to them as they parted for a breath, her dilated pupils as she met his gaze.

_God, _she was beautiful.

"Mac," she breathed. "We can… can blame that on the whisky if you wanted. Never talk about it again and go back to normal." She swallowed, "Or…"

"Or?"

She lifted a hand to his cheek, the pad of her thumb stroking across the end-of-the-day stubble. "Or you can kiss me again."

He swallowed, gave her the benefit of a moment's thought, before stepping back to her and kissing her again. He wound his arm around her back as she arched into his embrace, the hand on his cheek gliding to his neck and keeping him right where she wanted him.

She opened her legs and he stepped between her thighs, her ankles wrapping around his calf and keeping him locked to her body. She moaned again and, _God_, if he didn't just take her then and there… How had they managed to stay apart for so long? Fifteen years without him hearing that noise bubbling from her throat, without feeling her hands smooth up his torso and slide the jacket from his arms.

She rucked the shirt from his trousers before tucking her fingers beneath the hem of her own jumper and pulling it over her head, her intentions without doubt now. She fastened her lips back to his before he was able to see her, but he could feel the silken skin beneath his fingers and it was exactly like he imagined. All those nights with nothing but his imagination and here it was, in the flesh and all his.

He jerked her towards him, her hands caught between them from where she attempted to unbutton the shirt. His fingers splayed across her bare back as he ran his tongue along her lips, entry quickly granted.

Her legs wrapped tighter around him, his hand finding her knee and bending it up to his hip. She could feel him, the bulge beneath his trousers now pressing against her stomach.

She splayed both hands across his chest and pushed him away.

He gave a momentary look of confusion and fear, his lips red and plump, before he realised her intentions as she pushed him down into his desk chair. She threw her leg over and straddled his hips, grinding into him as her fingers found the shirt buttons again and she attached her lips to his.

She didn't stay there. She moved to his jaw, pressing kisses across the stubble en route to his ear. She pulled his earlobe between her teeth just as his hands travelled from her hips and up her sides, over her breasts and into her hair. Her breath caught in her throat as his heavy touch passed over her nipples, the lace of her bra providing blessed friction but not enough contact.

He pulled her mouth back to his, his tongue duelling with hers as one hand slid back down her body. He grinded a palm into her breast, squeezing as the nipple hardened beneath his touch. She stilled, lost in the moment of ecstasy as his hand squeezed her again, and again, his knuckles bumping over her nipple before capturing it between his fingers. He stole her breath in his kiss, her body jerking into his touch.

No, she had to get some control. She began kissing him again, finally managing to coordinate her shaking hands into finishing unbuttoning his shirt and she pulled it from him; Just enough so that his arms stuck to his side and he was at her mercy.

Her kisses followed her earlier path to his ear, taking the lobe between her teeth and biting everso lightly. She grinded into him with her hips, feeling his erection against her and _God_ she just wanted to go right there. Forget all the tease, forgo the foreplay and just sink into him and get some release. His name escaped her mouth on a breath and he grunted, straining against his makeshift restraints.

She traced her tongue around the shell of his ear, soothing where her teeth had nipped seconds before, and kissed down to his neck. She trailed the tip her tongue up and down, before nipping, biting at the flesh as her hips gyrated into him again. She felt the groan beneath her lips before it left his mouth. She grinded again and he suddenly surged forward, breaking free of her restraints and circling an arm around her before she fell from his lap.

He pulled her back into him and _Holy Christ _he was right there. _Right there. _His length was pressed against her, his lips were around her nipple and he shrugged his other arm free from the shirt to unbutton her jeans with surprising dexterity.

She was powerless, barely able to keep her nails from digging into his shoulders as he unzipped her fly and meandered a hand beneath. He slicked a large, thick finger beneath her folds and pressed into her swollen clit. She jerked at the contact, her back arching and her head falling back as he began a tortuously slow circle of the mound of nerves. Sounds escaped her parted lips and her body reacted with fire and spasms at his touch, her hips grinding against his hand in rhythm with his ministrations.

Yes. _Yes. _There. _There._

His teeth clamp down on her nipple, capturing it beneath the lacy bra as his tongue flicked the bud. He synchronised his tongue and finger, circling around, around, around until her stomach was quivering in time and his name was escaping from her lips with nondescript sounds.

He had never been more aroused. Never. Never in his forty six years had the sound of his name being spoken in two broken syllables been so incredibly erotic until it was Stella Bonasera writhing beneath his touch, pleading for release.

He slid his hand lower. His finger left her clit and quickly found her opening, slick with arousal and clenching in time with the tongue on her breast.

"Oh _God__…_!" she managed to say, feeling his thick finger slide inside her. Her walls immediately clamped down on it, attempting to hold it in place but Mac had other ideas. He pulled out, slowly, determinedly despite her protests.

In.

Out.

In.

Out. In.

Out. In.

Soon, the rhythm quickened; his name sounding like a plea from her lips as her hips pressed against him, her muscles spasming, her nails digging almost-painfully into his flesh. He added another finger and she came immediately. Her walls clenched so hard that he was unable to move his fingers at all, his tongue providing the only continued ministrations as she rode out her orgasm, her head thrown back as her body stilled.

He was most definitely in pain now. Not only from the cramp of having his hand stuck in an awkward position, but his erection was straining for its own release. The material of his trousers was tight enough but where her hips straddled him pulled on what slack was left.

His kissed up her body to her mouth, bringing her around with kisses on her lips.

"Mac," she kissed him. "That was…"

He brought her fully upright and flush against his body, his erection pressing into her still-sensitive core. She sparked back to mobility in an instant, a hand reaching down between them and unbuckling his belt. It was his turn for his breath to hitch in his throat as her hand stroked up his length. "Stella…"

His eyes closed at the contact, _God _how he needed it. He bucked into her hand but his eyes snapped open as he felt her climb off him. Worried for a second that he wouldn't get his own release, he watched in wonderment as she peeled the tight jeans from her legs, taking her panties with them.

He watched her nimble fingers make light work of his button and zip before pulling the trousers delicately over his cock and then quickly from his legs. She climbed back on top of him, her warm, silken skin gliding over his as she lifted her herself up on the legs of the chair and guided him to her opening.

She caught his eye as her hand slid down his length, pumping him then holding him steady in tortuous ecstasy. She circled her hips, the sensation was amazing but the look on Mac's face was even better: dazed, amazed and slack-jawed.

She couldn't wait any longer; the anticipation, the desire, the sheer unadulterated _need _was too much.

She sank her body onto him.

Just that act, having him slide into her, made their eyes roll back into their heads and a moan whisper from their mouths. His fingers clenched into her hips; he tried to not hurt her but every ounce of control he had was focused on not exploding immediately. _God,_ she felt amazing. Tight and silken and warm…

And then she moved.

A slight gyration; a twist of her hips and he felt his fingers dig further into her hips as did hers on his arms. Single stabs of sweet pain as her nails dug into his skin unbeknownst of their owner.

Maybe it was a dream. No, a fantasy. Maybe he was actually in bed, his eyes shielded behind the crook of his elbow, the other hand twisted around the bed linen as his mind plagued him with sensations that were _oh so_ real.

He bucked, only realising he was doing it when she beared down onto him, countering his movement. Words escaped his mouth he only half heard, half understood.

She moaned, moving her hands to his shoulders as she sought a rhythm. Moving on him, around him, above him; groaning as he matched her movements, gliding his hands up her sides and pulling her towards him. He latched on to her neck, nipping at the pulse point as she rode him.

He bit, he licked, she moaned – panting as the sweet frustration of an impending orgasm twisted in her stomach, flowed through her veins, curled her toes. She never wanted it to end but _Jesus, _she needed the release.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head from her clavicle and attaching her lips to his. Tongues swirled as his hands dropped from the attention he was bestowing upon her breasts and back to her hips, pulling her into him with growing force, growing necessity as they both raced towards the climax.

Yes, yes_, oh God_, _yes!_

So close, _so close!_

_Pleas-_

It felt like her body stilled; her breathing, her heart, stock still. Just the ecstasy coursing through her veins, the clenching of her muscles around Mac as her orgasm exploded within her. She was vaguely aware that she hadn't taken a breath, vaguely aware that she must have been hurting him with how tight her thighs clenched his hips and how deeply her nails were imbedded in his skin.

He didn't feel any of that; Not in a way he disliked at least. In fact, it was incredible. _Beyond _incredible. Feeling her let go, feeling her come around him with his name on her lips, was too much; he couldn't hold on a second longer and pounded up into her one last time. He buried his head in her shoulder, her name whispered into her skin as he eyes screwed together in the strongest release he'd had since… God only knew when.

He felt her go limp in his arms, collapse against his body. He didn't want her to move, he wanted to just hold her like that a little while longer. Stave off the onslaught of reality, hide from the enormity of what just happened, what might happen in the future, for just a little bit.

"Mac…"

"Hmm…"

"We…"

She was a woman of many words or none at all, so he couldn't deny the smirk that she was rendered to single syllables; that _he _had rendered her to single syllables.

"Mac…" she breathed, again. She smoothed her hands down his chest before pushing herself up and off.

She crouched for her clothes, tossing him his shirt from the floor. He bent for his trousers and boxer briefs, pulling them up his legs and standing to secure them around his waist.

Her back was to him as she threaded her head back through her sweater, her curls bouncing from beneath the collar as she slid her hands around her neck.

He reached out, smoothing his hand down her arm and entwining their fingers. "Stella."

She turned to him, a smirk tilting her lips as she melded her body back with his, placing a kiss on his lips.

He smoothed a hand over her hair, "Who needs handcuffs?" he scoffed.

Placing another kiss on his lips, she leant to his ear, whispering "Never say never."


End file.
